


meridian

by florentines



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fight Club - Freeform, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Na Jaemin-centric, Rivals, jaemin is bitter but everyone loves him anyways
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 21:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florentines/pseuds/florentines
Summary: At his lowest, most despicable moments, Jaemin has imagined Jeno kissing him before—his lips ghosting over his collarbones, scraping over the juncture between his neck and his shoulder, mouthing at his jawline. But never like this.It happens almost in slow motion: Jaemin swings forward and closes the space between them in a heartbeat, his fist hurtling towards Jeno like an unspoken promise, and Jeno leans in almost expectantly, greeting Jaemin’s split knuckles with his lips. Jaemin can feel Jeno's pulse jackrabbiting against his fingertips, so he knows that Jeno must be able to feel the rhythm of Jaemin's heart against his lips as it stutters to a stop.He is so fucked.





	meridian

**Author's Note:**

> trying out this concept while i work on some prompt one-shots! this is a fight club au, so violence is a given (thus the warning).

It’s been a long week.

In between labs and study groups, Jaemin has probably spent more time at the university library than in his actual dorm, and with the threat of midterms looming over his head, he’s sure that he can count the number of hours he’s slept in the past few days on one hand. Every godforsaken second he’s spent hunched over in a study cubicle today is manifesting itself as a deep-seated ache in his bones, spreading from the base of his spine to his fingertips. It takes all of his remaining willpower to breathe, pull himself together, and stand up.

He stumbles backwards and wipes the blood from his mouth, his hand coming away glistening and streaked with red. Around him, the crowd boos, hands pushing roughly at his shoulders to propel him back into the circle. Jaemin barely has the time to turn his head before the air is knocked out of his lungs again, his knees crumpling at the impact. The world spins around him in a bright, hazy blur as he falls forward, and Jaemin releases a soft sigh as the ground comes rushing up to meet him. _At least this way, I’ll finally get some sleep_ he thinks to himself as his hands fly in front of him to shield his head from the impact.

The last thing he sees before his eyelids flutter shut is a ghostly pale face and a pair of large brown eyes, warm and wide with worry.

*

Like all bad ideas, fight club began with Donghyuck.

Jaemin had just been lazing around in his dorm, watching Dragon Ball reruns while making a half-hearted attempt at his statistics homework when Donghyuck barreled in, throwing himself on top of Jaemin and sending his phone clattering to the floor.

“Join fight club with me!” Donghyuck all but hollers into Jaemin’s ear, his arms wrapped around the other boy’s torso like ivy up an oak tree. Jaemin closes his eyes, slowly counts to ten under his breath, and looks up again to see Donghyuck still staring eagerly at him, practically vibrating with excitement. From somewhere below him on the floor, Jaemin can still hear the tinny sound of Vegeta’s yelling, and he wonders faintly what he did in his past life to deserve someone like Donghyuck. Had he been a murderer, perhaps?

“I’m just going to pretend like you’re not here and that you didn’t just ruin a perfectly good afternoon of Dragon Ball binge-watching,” Jaemin says, shoving Donghyuck off of him with little effort. The other boy lands on the carpet with a soft _oof_ , his eyes fixing Jaemin with a reproachful glare.

“This is exactly why you should join!” Donghyuck huffs, pushing himself back up and brushing the lint from his legs. Jaemin ignores him and begins to grope around on the floor for his phone, his hands coming up disappointingly empty.

“You’re already such a bully anyways, so why not expend your effort into beating up people other than your best friend? And besides, you already do dance and taekwondo regularly, so it’s not like you’d have to do much to stay in shape. Seriously, you should consider it!” Donghyuck says in a rush, twisting his lips into a pout. Jaemin pauses for a second and squints at Donghyuck, his hands stilling in their search for his phone.

“You want something.”

“Yes, Na Jaemin, I want you to join fight club.” Donghyuck says slowly, like Jaemin is being difficult on purpose. “Were you not listening to me just a second ago?”

“Well, I try to tune you out to the best of my ability in everyday life, so no.” Jaemin shoots back, not even sparing Donghyuck a glance. His fingers close around a smooth metal object amongst the nubbly carpet fibers and he pulls his phone out from under his bed with a triumphant grin, the speakers still broadcasting Vegeta’s anger-fueled monologue. “You know what I mean, though. There’s got to be an ulterior motive hiding somewhere in that chicken brain of yours.”

“I’ll have you know that chickens are sentient, highly intelligent organisms. And no, I come with pure intentions, and pure intentions only.” Donghyuck replies, arching an eyebrow at Jaemin. Jaemin stares back him for a few moments, his features schooling themselves into an unimpressed expression before Donghyuck’s resolve finally cracks.

“Okay fine, there might be an ulterior motive. But it’s a good one, I swear!” Donghyuck concedes, throwing himself onto the bed once more. Jaemin rolls his eyes and makes space for Donghyuck, who immediately takes advantage of the movement and slides next to Jaemin, resting his head on his shoulder.

“I-” Jaemin starts.

“Regardless, it doesn’t matter what my motive is! I genuinely think you would do really well, and besides being a good outlet for the excess anger you regularly take out on me, you could even earn prize money for your wins!” Donghyuck blusters on, cutting Jaemin short. “No more summer work-study in the library anymore!”

“Hey, I actually liked working in the library over the summer! Didn’t I tell you about that cute industrial design kid who-” Jaemin protests. He makes a futile attempt to pull himself away from Donghyuck but eventually gives up with a snort, resigning himself to using only his right arm.

“Huang Renjun?” Donghyuck interrupts again, his eyes lighting up. “You’re not going to believe this, but this is almost too perfect, Nana.” Jaemin turns slightly towards Donghyuck, his interest now piqued.

“What do you mean?” he asks tentatively.

“He’s on the featherweight roster from last semester.” Donghyuck smiles winningly, as if he can already taste his victory.

“You have got to be kidding me-”

*

Somehow, Donghyuck convinces Jaemin to join, and Jaemin isn’t surprised, not in the least. It’s always been like this, ever since they were kids. Whenever Donghyuck wants something, he wheedles and whines about it to the point where Jaemin will do anything just to get him to shut up, regardless of how absurd the request. Once the deed is done, Donghyuck will always smile all angelic, no trace of his hellish self to be found, and normal life will resume once more.

(To be fair, Donghyuck is pretty soft on Jaemin too, sneaking downstairs to call Jaemin on his landline during particularly bad storms and bringing him extra ice water during dance practices. Jaemin tries not to think about it too hard, or else he might start feeling genuinely nice feelings towards his best friend and rival of fifteen years.)

When they were nine, it was red bean popsicles bought with saved-up change from the corner store, Donghyuck’s sticky arm pressed against his as they sat slumped on the curb, melted ice cream running down their hands. Now, at nineteen, it’s Friday night meet-ups at the abandoned parking garage five miles north of campus, a harsh wind blowing between the columns of the third floor and slicing into Jaemin between his ribs, their shoulders pressed together for warmth.

Retrospectively, Jaemin realizes that Donghyuck never actually told him his real reason for wanting to join fight club, but watching his friend sidle up to a slim-built upperclassman with dark hair and a shy smile that dances across his lips, he can guess at why.

Donghyuck hadn’t been wrong, necessarily, about the potential fight club had in store for him. Even though Jaemin had started only a few months prior, he was already a regular on their tournament roster, and on a good weekend, he could rake in at least three hundred thousand won in betting money. Plus, Donghyuck hadn’t been lying when he said Renjun was on the roster as well; he was a popular fighter amongst fans, and even from his position near the entrance, Jaemin can see the outline of his slight frame under the floodlights, his hands moving animatedly as he speaks to a taller boy with a sweep of chestnut fringe.

Lee Jeno, also known as the bane of his existence, second to Lee Donghyuck himself. Jaemin has a conspiracy that it has to do with their shared last name, but Donghyuck refuses to hear him out whenever he brings it up, writing it off as another one of Jaemin’s short-lived crushes.

It’s not that Jeno isn’t perfectly charming, because he is. He’s handsome, polite, and amiable, and a good sport at that. Whenever he can tell that his opponent is at their breaking point, he always relents, giving them the chance to call out their surrender and gather the remaining pieces of their dignity before retreating to nurse their wounds. And it is for this reason exactly that Jaemin feels bile rise in his stomach whenever he catches a glimpse of him.

Never, in his entire three months of fight club, has Jaemin ever won a match against Jeno. Jeno is by no means the highest ranked fighter in their division, but something about the speed and fluidity of his movements never fails to catch Jaemin off guard, and their encounters in-round and out always leave him reeling and feeling bereft. There’s something satisfyingly cathartic about reveling in the misery of one’s loss, and a small, petty part of Jaemin hates Jeno for taking even that away from him, for allowing him the option of a gracious defeat. Donghyuck tells him that he’s just a bitter, emotionally repressed person who needs to get over himself, but no matter how hard he tries, Jaemin is still unable to shake sensation of scorpions in stomach whenever he is confronted by Jeno.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. Jaemin isn’t in fight club to make friends—he’s in fight club because Donghyuck originally dragged him there, because it helps him slowly chip away at his massive student debt on top of his two other jobs, because the burn of skin against skin helps him sand out the chip in his shoulder he tries so hard to hide. He’s not there to stare at wistfully at the delicate slope of Renjun’s cheekbones, or to harbor a secret hatred against Jeno, the supposed human personification of sunshine itself. This is all supposed to be routine by now, Jaemin reminds himself, and he’s just going through the motions anyway.

*

By some miracle, Jaemin manages to pry his eyes open once more, although it pains him greatly to do so. The world is spiraling in Jaemin’s peripheral vision, and there is a persistent ringing in his ears that keeps him dizzy and glued to the cold cement. He vaguely registers the crowd chanting, and horror quickly seeps into his veins when he realizes that they’ve already started the countdown.

In a last-ditch effort, Jaemin struggles against the weight of his own body and tries to peel himself off the ground, at last managing to raise himself up on one elbow.

“Five...four...three...two-”

Two elbows, and now his left knee.

“One..”

Jaemin draws himself unsteadily onto his feet, swaying from side to side. Steeling his resolve, his spits out the residual blood in his mouth, his body feeling loose and not entirely his own. The booing comes to an abrupt halt, and for the first time in any of Jaemin’s matches, the unruly crowd becomes completely silent. From beside him, someone exhales long and slow, the sound amplified by their close proximity. Jaemin swivels his head around so quickly he almost gives himself whiplash, and something sharp lodges itself in the space between his heart and his ribs when he remembers who his opponent is supposed to be.

He’s always considered himself to be a pretty easygoing guy, and never particularly vindictive, but when Jaemin sees the slight wrinkle of concern between Jeno’s brows, the thorn in his side twists, lacerating his lungs. Tonight, he’s going to show Lee Jeno exactly where he can stuff his misplaced sympathy.

**Author's Note:**

> at the end of the day, this is a first kiss fic, so don't expect too much angst (despite what direction this might seem to be headed in now). i plan on continuing this au in the future, so do let me know your thoughts! ♡


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